Don't Look in the Closet
by ThreeBooksInTheFire
Summary: She sees things she didn't see before, the oil shines in the light, a siren call, a fog horn on a lighthouse, warning boats away during the storm. Riverspeak, no spoilers.


She remembers him, somewhere in her mind, she sees him. He's the same, hasn't changed, not since the day she left. He's an open book, sweet, kind, apple pie with sugar in the crust, the way they always made it every Christmas. The pages doused with oil, good for the texture, but able to ignite. She sees things she didn't see before, the oil shines in the light, a siren call, a fog horn on a lighthouse, warning boats away during the storm.

But their boat can't crash, it can only burn, flames licking higher as they slip and slide and ooze and clash around every rock in the sea. A sea of fire, don't rock the boat. It's too full, so many crammed into one small space, a cookie jar without a lid. Children can reach in and take, one, two, three, the steps to a waltz. Sweeping across the floor and dipping, glittering on the surface and a dark hole underneath, they were all like that, she could smell it.

She does everything for a reason, a hidden design, a chord that only she can strike, it makes the pain go away. She had to see if he was hollow, she wanted to write down what she saw and scream it from her window, but she doesn't have a window and nobody listens. She screams all the time and nobody pay attention to what she says, only that she's screaming at a danger they don't know, so they try to hush her up.

A mountain lion, descending on their camp, the fire is not what attracts it, but the smell of decay, the food they pass it nothing, but he wants them to hand over their trash, their leftovers, their insane little girl who sleeps alone in a tent at night.

She's not the only one to sleep alone, she knows, she can hear them because even if they're alone they're in the same campground, invisible threads, a cat's cradle. Oil on water, they can't mix even if they want to, drop food coloring into it and it reacts differently, clashing, one freezes and the other ignites. Thinks only for himself, not sure how to provide for others, doesn't want to, they don't deserve it. So blind, but he knows, he feels the cradle as it rocks, tipping over and crashing to the ground, fire upon contact, poison in the lungs. Cyanide gas chambers, shoving them in, shutting them out, making sure no secrets escape but sometimes they miss a few who squeeze through the cracks. Can't sleep in the dark, they find her there, they poke and prod and whisper into her ear, her mattress is lumpy, but they don't know because they don't bother to check. She does everything for a reason, they don't see that she has no reason to kill them.

Had to cut the blue, blue sun, blue layered through miles of water, deep under the ocean, can't breathe, can't get to the surface in time, drowning in it, they have a raft but don't know where she is, keep missing, setting out harpoons that sting but never strike. To help is to hurt, to hurt is to help, to have and to hold, until death do they part.

So blind, his symbol is broken, she tried to fix it but he didn't want it fixed, it was important and she broke it, wound the gears too tightly until they snapped, maybe he can't see because of the hair?

The lion's mane, the roar of battle, bullets across hot fields. Brave men, running across to their deaths, all in formation even as they're cut down, five at a time, cannons and rockets boil their skin away, leaving nothing behind but bones, he's seen this, and even if he puts away his mane it'll still be there, waiting, for the taunt, the vicious jab that snaps his hair band and he's forced to become a lion once more, instead of a sheep. Shepards, supposed to leave the flock and save one, an innocent one that does not need saving, she can survive on her own, but in the flock she's dangerous, a wolf, can't he see that she is better off not belonging in the flock? It burns, it stings, for a few precious moments she can be cut open and glow and be eaten by the flock, the cradle, but the Verse expands and contracts, and she can only be an apple, shining, red, still on the branch, not yet plucked, can't be baked into a pie yet because she's not ripe, just a flower, in gestation... two parts, not yet one.

She's being pulled apart, she can feel it, she wants to tell the secret, like Simon always did, to put the weight on her shoulders on the ground and walk away, but she can't, the backpack is strapped on, all pots and pans clanging together, Simon really can't cook. He can't take the pan from her, he'll drop it, and it'll make the sound that brings the Lion out, he'll hunt them down and tear them apart, knocking them from their cradle and ruining the pattern, fragments of music that never make a whole song, unable to revise the pattern that's vital to the Verse. The same phrase, over and over again. It isn't mine, the knowledge, it can't be because I'm just a girl who wants to dance, but keeps being shackled, hated shoes, always did, they cover her feet and she can't feel the grass, the floor, hadn't felt a normal floor in years, not until he saved her, sweet as always, always looking out for his Mei-Mei, pulling her back from the oven even if she wants the pie, she has to share, she has to give him the pan!

It's too heavy, it's dragging her down, she has a mission and she doesn't know what it is, she's running but not to a place, a purpose that can't be defined, she isn't being paid, she should be paid for her efforts, she just wanted to dance and they can't even give her that, she paces back and forth in the small room and the empty man's voice tries to sparkle but she doesn't believe him, He's just a pawn, she can see them watching him, always watching and never saying anything, waiting for her purpose, the mission to complete itself, but she can't do anything because she can only disappoint, that's what she was born to do, smart but can't see everything, one little slip out of ambition and down the rabbit hole she goes, Alice, stuck in Wonderland with the obsessive queen who hunts them while she sleeps and poisons their food, red is better then blue, not enough red to drown in.

Never enough red, they want more, to sell and put on display, splattered in it, none of it hers but it's there and it will never go away, tattooed on her skin because memories last longer then stains, they'll see her, covered in blood, obeying orders because she can't disappoint them or they'll bring the pain, the mattress becomes lumpy again and she can't sleep because of it, can't crawl into someone else's bed because they're all lumpy, peas under the mattress, she can feel them but there is no prince to marry, he's an illusion, created by the system that she can't disobey, always hunted, never stopping to rest even when she stands still, always thinking, plotting, scheming, can't stop, they took that away, removed a block that she wants back, she wants it back so badly, even if she drops the pan she can't stop moving, she wants to badly to be still!

Bullet in the brainpan, stop thinking, stop breathing, never have to taste the smoke again, drowning doesn't matter, lungs don't need air anyways.


End file.
